


Tea Leaves

by Teactoc



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tea Shop, Angst and Feels, Because I can, Eventual Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Rated M for Swearing, Underwear Model Shiro, but nothing really graphic, it seems i can't help it, like blink and you'll miss it, so many feels, tattoo artist keith, very brief hint of plance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teactoc/pseuds/Teactoc
Summary: Keith left 3 years ago when Shiro pushed him away. They aren't the same anymore, 3 years is a long time and they both understand themselves better now. They're still two pining idiots though but Lance is here to give them the nudge they need.Or, the one story that was supposed to be complete crack but that I infused with feelings anyway because they're both so stupidly in love I HAD to find a real plot.





	Tea Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Voltron keeps on inspiring me! Also, my best friend couldn't read the last one I wrote since she has only just started to watch the show, so I felt compelled to write her an AU she'd eventually be able to lay her eyes on. You can probably tell I have zero ideas how modelling works, same goes for being a tattoo artist but hey at least I know a great deal about tea! Yay for this. 
> 
> Anyway, once again I must thank [cover-me-cover-me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_velvet_wings/pseuds/cover-me-cover-me) for being my amazing beta! Her input and the comments from my friend as well helped me so much while I was struggling to convey the right feels... Thank you both so so much!

“Lance for fuck’s sake I’m not your errand boy, go fetch it yourself!”

 

“Come on man! I have a date! Pidge and I are having lunch and if I don’t grab the stuff today it will be sold out! I’ll meet you at your shop as soon as I’m done please!” Lance plead over the phone, his overly high pitched tone making Keith cringe and he groans, his brows pinched, eyes closed as he let out a sigh that causes a passerby to turn her head in concern. He’s already regretting the words he’s about to say. “Fine! But just this time! Send me the address quickly before I change my mind!” 

 

To happy to oblige, Lance goes then on a long litany of how much he loves Keith and how he’s the best friend he has in the whole universe and Keith lets him chant his merits because he’s on his way to pick some friggin’ tea and if that is not some proof of how much he’s willing to do for friendship, Keith will have to start thinking about finding new friends. 

 

“Why the hell didn’t you pick it up earlier if it’s such a rarity?” Keith asks as he studies the route he’ll take to reach the place. It’s not that far from where he his, he thinks and misses completely the way Lance goes silent for a second, but then Lance snickers and Keith rolls his eyes, making a mental note to punch his friend the next time he sees him. “I had a very good reason.”

 

“Just say you’ve been procrastinating dude, you know I don’t buy your shit anyway.” Keith lets out another puff of breath that, by his standards, can be considered a laugh. 

 

They keep on talking for a short while, bickering really but that’s how they communicate. It has been the core of their friendship for so long that they probably wouldn’t be able to speak differently unless it was a serious matter. They understand the meaning behind every insult, every harsh word, every fight be it physical or not. That’s how they are and Keith wouldn’t change it for the world even if he would never admit that aloud, not even to save his life. Lance knows anyway. Probably. Maybe he should do something for the guy to thank him for being here even after all these years, supporting his insufferable moods, his compulsion to always go head first and fight everything that stands in his way, sometimes literally. 

 

Keith has changed though. He’s not the same 18 year old angry, self conscious, shy boy that left to travel the world. 

 

For one thing, he’s doing grocery shopping for Lance and if that’s not maturity on his part, then what is? Surely Lance appreciates the gesture. If not, Keith can always threaten to tattoo “dum-dum” on his forehead the next time the guy is completely wasted. 

 

He’s smirking at the idea when he pushes the door of the small establishment open and stops dead in his track as he finds the place packed. There are girls and boys literally  _ swooning _ everywhere as a man behind a counter tends to a customer’s order. It’s not like the said man is your regular clerk anyway and Keith knows the moment he recognizes him why this place that is supposedly just a tea shop is full to overflowing. The man’s body is plastered all over town, and the country, if not the rest of the world, and it can sometimes attract more patrons, or he should probably says, admirers.

 

Keith debates inwardly over the idea of simply fleeing and telling Lance that he arrived too late but that would be a blatant lie considering that Lance knows he was on his way and that it’s not even noon. 

 

The customer that was being served when he entered politely asks for Keith to move from his spot in front of the door and effectively snaps him out of his reverie. It makes the clerk check in his direction and Keith stomach clenches at the almost smile that graces the man’s lips, something too private to be noticed by the crowd, something that makes Keith burn and he clumsily steps aside to let the woman pass, the connection between Keith and him breaking instantly, the man already taking care of someone else when Keith looks ahead once again.

 

The man’s hand flies along the wall behind him full with black and white tea canisters, opening can after can for customers that either smile or crinkle their nose at the smell. They listen to him with wide curious eyes as he aptly answers every question like it’s the first time they’ve been asked. He’s too big for such a delicate place, his apron doubling the already impressive size of his shoulders, he looks like a bull in a china shop and yet, he’s only grace and precision. 

 

Slowly the shop clears as it nears lunch break and Keith finds himself being the only customer left.

 

They lock eyes, silence stretching between them like a string that’s waiting to snap and it only takes the man cocking his head, lifting his chin up just a few degrees for Keith to curse Lance for eternity. He’s been set up and played and he will make Lance choke on his fucking tea leaves that’s for sure. 

 

“Keith, it’s so good to see you...”

 

*****

 

The bar is closed, a private party thrown just for him and he appreciates the music loud enough to set his insides trembling with the vibrations of the bass. People still have to step closer to speak at times but the atmosphere is loose, the alcohol making the crowd light headed as they cheer for Keith anytime he approaches someone or a group he hasn’t had time to greet yet.

 

“Man! I’m glad you’re back!” Lance shouts as he wraps his arm around his shoulder and Keith smiles softly. It’s probably the hundredth time his friend said this already but no matter how many times the words are out he enjoys them all the same. Soon, Pidge tackles him into a bone crushing hug and Hunk joins shortly, the scene stretching a fond smile onto Matt’s lips, the owner of “The Paladins” bar as he brings them another round of beers and they settle into an easy-going conversation about Keith's journey around the world. 

 

They all know quite a lot about it already, if only because Keith, as much as he wanted to severe all connections to his life when he left, couldn’t just get rid of them that easily. So, Keith tries his best to please his friends, his family really, and entertains them with tales of odd customers, cool places he worked at, designs he’s proud of. It’s the most Keith has ever talked in a while. Happiness and excitement tend to do that even to the most secretive person as they babble about their hobby/work with people their comfortable with. 

 

He has a list as long as his arm of tattoos his friends want him to etch on their skin now that he’s back for good and has opened his own shop. It’s a testimony of their friendship as much as it’s a trust in his talent and skills, things he has nurtured throughout his journey. He has learned so much while being a guest in tattoo parlours all over the world and he can’t wait to take this new step in his life, especially eager to start with the people he cares about. 

 

The night goes on and drinks continue to flow, conversations take on an another level of loudness, laughter booms all over the place in between songs from the band that performs and Keith finds himself focusing on the lyrics and closing his eyes, his finger tapping the rhythm along the neck of his beer bottle. He has taken a moment alone for the first time tonight and everyone is too busy in their own circles to notice. Either that or they just let him be, he can’t say, but he knows they appreciate the demonstration of his newly acquired social skills so yeah, they probably let him be as a way to say thank you. 

 

_ “Travelled the universe twice _

_ So many thoughts I wanted to share _

_ But I didn’t call 'cause it wouldn’t be fair” _

 

The song ends, the front door opens and closes just at that moment, that brief instant suspended in time when a band is about to play another song. He hears heavy footsteps, they stop and he recognizes Hunk’s voice tone along with the rest of his best friends greeting the late guest. The slow chords from the guitar, the voice of the singer makes this particular duet and whatever is happening the perfect dreamscape in Keith’s mind. As the first bang of the drums resonates in the room to lift the tempo of the song it takes Keith's breath away when a baritone voice caresses his ear, a hand on his shoulder as the man leans over him to whisper only for him to hear, “Welcome back.”

 

Keith's feet dig into the soles of his boots to ground himself, his eyes open unhurried and he turns and lifts his head slowly, meeting soft gray eyes wrinkled at the corners thanks to the genuine smile that brightens his face like he has been told he just won his weight in candies or something. 

 

“Shiro...” It comes a little breathless, a little too low but it’s not that bad if the name is lost in the ambient noise, the owner catches it anyway. He steps back, straightens casually and Keith has to use every bit of his willpower not to chase the warmth coming from Shiro’s body. 

 

“You’re taller than I remember.” Shiro laughs and scratches the back of his neck with his hand. 

 

“Well that was 3 years ago so yeah, I guess that happened.” 

 

“A lot can happen in 3 years...” Shiro says, his eyes suddenly lost somewhere above Keith’s shoulder as if shy of meeting his and that’s when Keith notices the metal arm. Shiro didn’t have it when he left, not that he’s surprised though. 

 

They used to be the closest out of the rest of their little friend-group, but Keith going abroad made sure to put some distance between them so he only heard about it from Lance and Pidge. They would be the one keeping him updated casually, or he would not-so-subtly ask them, it depended really. 

 

Matt interrupts the awkward silence that has settled between them and offers Shiro a beer, teasing him about being so late that he will have to drink a whole keg, bottoms up, to be on the same level as everyone. Shiro politely takes the bottle and laughs it off, saying he has an early start the next day. 

 

“Ah right, the new ad you suddenly agreed on!” Matt wriggles his eyebrows playfully before leaving them and Shiro rolls his eyes, his skin flushing a light shade of red just under the scar that underlines his look.

 

“I thought you were done modelling” Keith probes, cautiously, taking a long sip of his own beer.

 

“I’m only doing this one for this photographer I used to work with a lot. She asked for my help, I couldn’t say no.”

 

Keith lowers his head and smiles. This, right here, is so Shiro, running to the rescue when a friend is in need. He hasn’t changed there at least, and Keith tips his head to the side, looking at Shiro from under his lashes as he offers for their conversation to keep going while they step outside for a moment. “I could use some fresh air” he says. Shiro nods, his lips disappearing in a thin line and they leave the crowd that has already thinned now that it’s getting late. 

 

It’s still warm outside, the start of the indian summer though there’s a cooler breeze that makes him shiver pleasantly as they exit the heat created by the people still gathered inside the bar. Under the watchful eye of the stars Keith leans against the wall, the music from the band a buzz that envelops them while they search for a way to, what… make up for the years that passed? They hadn’t stayed in touch for a reason and it would have been hypocritical to try right now. 

 

As if reading his mind, Shiro asks instead for what he’s been up to lately and just like that, the conversation flows again easily. It has been proven that Keith can talk about his work for hours. He used to be very talkative with Shiro anyway and they fall effortlessly to their old habits. Keith explains the idea behind his shop and how it had been a pain in the ass to build it.  They laugh a lot. Sometimes one of them leaves to go fetch new drinks and Keith is often interrupted by people leaving, offering their goodbyes. When Lance, Pidge and Hunk stumble through the door and wave them off, Keith peaks inside to see Matt about to close the bar, turning off all the lights but the one above the counter. As they come inside to grab their stuff and leave as well, he suggests giving the extra set of keys to Keith and after exchanging a look with Shiro he sheepishly nods, ignoring the knowing look Matt gives to both of them. They have been the recipient of these looks all night, from different people but Keith doesn’t care. At least, he doesn’t want to care right now.

 

Matt shows them the booze he bought especially for the night, there’s not much left but that’s more than enough for the both of them and Keith remembers just in time to thank his friend profusely for throwing such a party for his return. He also has the good sense of feeling a bit guilty for having disappeared halfway through it but is quickly dismissed with a smile as Matt ruffles his hair and whispers he’s just glad that Keith is back for good and seems more at peace with himself than when he left. “You owe me anyway Kogane, don’t think I’ll forget your offer to redesign “The Paladins” logo for free!” He yells as he leaves and Keith laughs, taking a seat on a stool, idly running his fingertip over a scratch on the countertop.

 

The silence is more comfortable this time. Now that there’s no one, no band around. Now that they aren’t pretending that the world has faded around them.

 

“So,” Shiro starts, a sly smile on his lips, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes and Keith braces himself for the onslaught of emotions that look itself causes. “do I have to beg for you” and Keith is quite drunk but he swears the beat is too long to be innocent here,  “to give me a tattoo?”

 

Keith elegantly manages not to choke on his beer and pulls out the list and the pen clipped to the front pocket of his jacket. He makes a show of calculating a date and chuckles as Shiro’s face falls seeing all the names on the paper. “Never thought that every single one of your friends would want a tattoo.” He pouts and grabs a bottle, perched on his own stool, his massive body leaning over the bar making Keith gulp as the muscles of his shoulders rolls with the effort, the faint light giving his prosthetic an interesting color and in that single moment, Keith is struck by the inspiration. 

 

Without a word, he runs for his messenger bag and grabs a white marker, returning to his seat with an urgency he hasn’t felt in while. The primal need to draw what’s in his mind for fear of wasting the idea. Shiro looks at him, curious, but not only. He’s probably just as drunk as him now though and Keith is on an artistic mission anyway. He doesn’t have the resources to spend on meaningful looks right now. 

 

Shiro doesn’t have a choice but to let Keith play with his arm and the remainder of the night is spent with Keith, brows furrowed, hyper focused on the design that soon ornates Shiro prosthesis.

 

*****

 

“You didn’t tell me you were working here.” Keith blinks, unable to recognize his voice. It’s like he’s accusing Shiro of hiding this piece of information.

 

“It’s not like you asked, I remember being the one asking questions at the party.” There’s nothing in Shiro’s tone that indicates he’s upset about Keith’s words but it hits him hard in the chest all the same. 

 

“I guess so yeah…” He can’t fight the blush that stains his cheeks, shame creeping along his back for a second and he fumbles with a loose thread inside his jean pocket to keep his hand busy before remembering why he came here in the first place. “Lance asked me to pick some tea?” He hopes that Shiro knows what the man wants because it was hard enough to formulate the idea, he’s uncertain he will succeed in remembering the name. 

 

Shiro looks disappointed but it disappears as soon as Keith tries to understand why. Is he hallucinating now? He shakes his head, unnoticed as Shiro turns away and grabs a small silver bag he puts next to the cash register. It could end quickly, Keith could pay, take the damn thing and leave but the glimmer of sadness he sees in Shiro’s eyes has him unsure that leaving is what he really wants. “What is it anyway that it sells out so quickly? It’s just tea...”

 

Shiro smirks, Keith curses at the sight and his steps aren’t as steady as he would like when he approaches the counter. 

 

He will never be immune to the many expressions Shiro displays, it’s a disaster really, it has always been. 

 

“It’s a green tea that’s harvested in the spring. The farm where I usually buy it doesn’t produce much so I sell it quite quickly when the season starts but my friend in Japan told me they had some left so I ordered it for Lance. He likes it after his yoga practice.” Keith can tell that Shiro resists the urge to say more, to lecture him about the dark emerald green tea leaves that have travelled so far just to end up in the cup of a guy that values his body and flexibility very highly. 

 

Shiro nibbles nervously on his lower lip, it drives him crazy not to tell more, Keith knows so, if only because he heard him when the shop was still full, talking endlessly with his patrons even when there were still more to serve. Shiro’s a passionate man, he gives everything he has for the world to be a better place, for him to be the best in his discipline. That’s what brought them close when Shiro was still training to be a pilot but the accident had changed it all and Keith had left. He knew somehow Shiro would change discipline, he didn’t imagine him here, though.

 

He wants to ask why, why is Shiro wasting his intellect, his abilities running a tea shop but he remembers the stunning smiles, the sparkle in his eyes as he talked to his earlier clients and Keith suddenly feels remorseful. If it makes Shiro happy and accomplished why would him being here be such a waste? 

 

He should know, he’s been told this so much already. “Why did you drop out of college? And to be a tattoo artist on top of that? It’s such a waste, you’re so brilliant!” And so on… 

 

He’s brilliant alright but only feels like it when he holds pens and inks and tattoo machines. That’s when he feels alive because his mind will get to express itself on a canvas, be it paper or skin. He didn’t have that when he was younger and that was what bottled all of his anger, not having a safe space to express who he truly was.

 

It’s no different for Shiro.

 

“You like being here?” he asks instead then, and studies how Shiro’s jawline relaxes, how the tense brows loosen up, how the spark in his eyes ignites again and how his smile is so bright it puts the sunlight to shame.

 

“Yeah” he nods, bashful “Yeah I like it quite a lot...”

 

It’s the only answer Keith needs and he takes his wallet out of his pocket to pay, wide eyes meeting Shiro’s when the man announces the price. He lets him swipe his card nonetheless and makes a note not to forget to ask Lance to repay him the moment he even touches the bag.

 

The moment Keith picks the tea Shiro is holding he glances at familiar white lines on the metallic arm and it makes the man jerk and pull his sleeve quickly like he’s been caught red-handed. 

 

*****

 

They barely slept that night, leaving the bar deep into the night and when Shiro’s alarm clock screams next to his ear he tries very hard not to smash the device that seems to drill holes into his skull. He groans and painfully drags his body to the bathroom for his morning routine. It’s only when he looks at his reflection in the mirror, the fog clearing in his mind, that he remembers the way Keith had felt against his chest when he had wished him welcome, how lively and proud Keith had seemed talking about his recently opened shop, how desperate he had been, unable to feel Keith's warm hand and deft fingers holding him in place while drawing on his prosthetic.

 

The design is breathtaking, it’s a mix of curved lines - that expertly compliments the way the metal has been carved to match his once existent muscle structure - and floral patterns. Keith may as well have given his arm a soul, for he breathed a semblance of life into it with just a pen. 

 

Carefully he tries to apply some water on a remote white dot on the back of his hand and breathes out a relieved sigh when it doesn’t fade. Keith must have used some kind of permanent marker and he’s thankful for that. It’s the only thing he has been gifted by Keith and he wants to treasure it for a few more hours. He knows he can’t dare hope for more.

 

When he’s ready, he heads toward Allura’s photo studio and sure enough the place buzzes with the effervescence peculiar to the modelling world.

 

“Shiro dear! You’re finally here!” Allura greets him from afar, directing her precious assistant Coran for the lights and such. He barely has time to wave at her before he’s pushed into a chair for his hair and make-up to be done and then he knows it’s time to bid goodbye to the work of art on his arm. 

 

Back when he was a poor student trying to make ends meet, Shiro was worshipped by underwear companies. They were desperately in love with him and they still miss him terribly if the number of contracts he’s refusing monthly is an indication of how popular he still is. 

 

They tried to turn him into a runway model, to make him star in tv ads but Shiro was very much content just posing for a camera. It was more than enough and that’s how he met Allura and Coran with whom he remained friends even when he decided it was time to stop. 

 

It’s in the name of their friendship that Allura has asked for his help, although she would eventually have found a way to resolve this quickly. It’s not a small company he’s modelling for today and Allura isn’t ‘no-one’. 

 

Maybe he misses working with her more than he cares to admit though. 

 

It reminds him of another time he knows he will never live again but that Keith’s return has placed on the forefront of his mind once more. 

 

Changing in to a pair of boxer shorts he pulls the curtain, meeting a whole row of furrowed brows, rubbed chins and nodding heads as they study his new ornamentation. 

 

They can’t possibly let him keep it.

 

“Who’s the artist?” The head of the ad campaign asks and when Shiro answers with a shrug like it’s no big deal, the woman starts looking up the name he gave her on her tablet. Her eyes widen, she steps aside to make some calls while the rest of his makeup is applied on his body and returns with a triumphant smile on her lips. 

 

He’s all but shoved in front of Allura’s camera and it’s only hours later when he carefully asks her, with all the detachment he’s capable of, if she’s going to edit the design out from the chosen picture. She explains that she’s been expressly ordered to let it stay as it is and he wonders aloud if Keith should be credited only to be cut short by her indignation. “Of course! I would have outright refused to do this if not! Who do you think I am? Every form of art is precious and should be valued as much as the artist that created it!”

 

A fond smile spreads on his lips as Allura defends artists’ rights with all the determination she’s capable of. She’s always so convincing in every speech she makes, Shiro ponders sometimes if just like Keith and he, her line of work differs from what people had in mind for her in the first place.

 

It’s late already when Shiro, Allura and Coran leave the studio. The night has fallen and the three of them agree on having a pizza before calling it quits. As she bids him goodbye she whispers in his ear with the exact same knowing smile people wore the night before as they watched Keith and him interact. “You should stop fooling yourself about Keith, Shiro. You’re even worse at it than when you’re trying to cook.”

 

Shiro blinks rapidly, struck by her words but she’s long gone when he opens his mouth to argue. Instead he walks toward his place, idly playing with the lines on his metallic wrist as he reaches his building. 

 

He should probably send a text to Keith about this whole ordeal but he’s sure Keith gave him his phone number out of pure politeness and he knows the company’s in touch with him already anyway to give him proper credit. 

 

Is he fooling himself? he thinks as he plops on his sofa. No, not anymore. Not now that he has seen him, not now that Keith has spent hours alone with him. He dares not to hope that the burgeoning feelings of the boy he once knew and that he couldn’t reciprocate at the time have bloomed into something steady and strong. But he’s fine currently with whatever it is they are now. 

 

Alright, maybe he’s fooling himself a tiny bit, the only one he hurts by doing so is himself and he thinks he deserves it anyway.

 

Reconnecting yesterday was great, it even felt natural at some point, being in the same place, talking, laughing together, but they never talked about seeing each other again. Not because of a lack of want, but because Shiro reckoned he had no right asking Keith out. Hence how important Keith’s gift on his arm was to him. If he were to never or barely see him again, might as well keep the only thing he had that reminded him of the younger man, so if he falls asleep on his couch dreaming about Keith using him as a blank page for him to draw on with whatever he wishes to, well it hurts no one yet again but himself.

 

*****

 

Shiro tugs a bit harder on his sleeve but gives up and lets out an embarrassed sigh. “I wanted to tell you about it, you know, and how we used it on the ad but Allura assured me the company was in talks with you already.” He shrugs, not really meeting Keith suspicious eyes. 

 

“Yeah well…” Keith dismisses whatever Shiro is more than vaguely trying to say. The way Keith’s eyes bore into his skin tells Shiro that it’s not what he wants to hear.

 

_ I wanted to text you,  _ is what Shiro really means, “You have quite the reputation apparently” is what he adds instead. He tries very hard to convince himself that it’s not the time or place to admit that he just couldn’t wipe the ink from his arm in fear that the night they spent talking and reconnecting would disappear like ink vanishing in the sink. 

 

There’s only a short list of things that can turn him into a bit of a coward, they’re all related to Keith somehow. 

 

“Right…” Keith is disappointed, it shows in the darker shade of purple his eyes take on but he blinks and it’s back to normal, “I did leave to try and build that reputation, partly.”

 

That last word rips Shiro’s heart in two. He knows the weight of it, he sees how heavy it still feels in each and every step Keith is taking, a hand on the doorknob already pushing it open. 

 

“You were so young Keith, you were only 18...” he whispers leaving far more important things unsaid.  _ Young and at war with the whole world but me. _ “And I was a mess.”  _ Not much older but with the accident things had changed so drastically, this was not a burden meant to be shared with you... _ He had always sworn he wouldn’t give up on Keith but if they had walked down that road together it wouldn’t have ended well. Shiro at the time was so sure he would have failed him...

 

“A lot can happen in 3 years…” Keith replies before leaving, using Shiro’s words on purpose. It’s only fair, but it hurts all the same.

 

Keith walks out, heading for his shop but his mind is elsewhere.  

 

The things he said are true. He, and surely Shiro as well, have changed in the span of 3 years. 

 

He’s not the lovestruck, naive kid he used to be anymore. He has become a good judge of character thanks to the many people he has met along his journey and although he’s not 100% proud of how much time he devoted to the thought of Shiro while abroad, he came to understand the choice Shiro made by pushing Keith away. 

 

Shiro hadn't kept everyone at bay though. He had Matt and Pidge, sometimes Hunk and Lance were there too during his recovery. But from what Keith gathered they all went through hell. There were fights, so many fights, Pidge would say when they would video chat, barely hiding her eyes welling up behind her glasses as Shiro in his stubbornness would continue to push everyone away. 

 

For all his good will and his primal wish to save the world and all that’s good in it, Shiro has also always been a bit of a martyr. It’s not that he doesn’t try for a happy ending, it’s just that if there’s a way to sacrifice himself for the greater good, his judgment becomes clouded by this only solution.

 

Keith knows, he used to be that way too.

 

Afterall, he left when he could have stood up to Shiro, if anyone could have won this fight, it surely was him.

 

In retrospect though, Keith thinks it was probably the right path for them and he’s thankful to Shiro in a way. The man blatantly kicked him in the shin so he would learn how to fly by himself, and he sure has succeed in the implied task. If he had stayed though, Shiro would have resented himself, thinking he was a hindrance to Keith’s personal growth and they would presumably have been blown into pieces in the process. 

 

That doesn’t mean those 3 years went by easily.

 

He can still taste the hurt of being pushed away, trying to do the same with with the rest of his friends just because of how painful it felt and how much he wanted to put it all behind him, the stupid pride that prevented him from reaching for Shiro, who only meant to do what he thought was right for them.

 

Keith remembers with an agonizingly sharp memory all those nights where his will would waver, where he would open his laptop and almost buy a plane ticket back to his past life, back to him because he couldn’t bear the distance, the fact that he was suffering and Keith wasn’t there for him. That’s when he would call Lance and the man would always without question put aside their silly arguments, truly listening to Keith’s struggles, encouraging him to push his limits. “Don’t you like this new shop you’ve settled in? I thought you said you were working on a big piece for a client? You should at least stay till it’s finished don’t you think?” One step at a time, Lance would convince Keith to move forward, not diminishing his internal conflict, just helping him to realize that there were other battles he could focus on, that this was good for him and that he shouldn’t give up. 

 

“I’m ready to come back” he said one day, and Lance had answered with a smile in voice “Yeah man, I think we’re all ready for you to return.”

 

Keith grabs the bag that contains the tea with more force than is necessary and decides that Lance can repay him later if he doesn’t have the cash right in his pockets. The guy has done enough for him already, he can wait a few more days to have his money back. He still plans on punching him though, he played Keith with this impromptu meeting with Shiro, that’s not nice.

 

Because really, it’s not like Keith needs the reminder that he’s still hopelessly in love with Shiro. It has been his constant companion for the past years so he knows that fact pretty well by now. And he doesn’t need as well to be reminded that Shiro ages like a fine wine and remains to this day the most gorgeous man he’s ever met. In fact this stupid ad does a fine job doing that without the help of Lance.

 

*****

 

Keith is a bit stunned when he hangs up the phone. He’s in his shop with Pidge who is setting up a color coded algorithm or whatever techno babble to help him with both his accounting and his appointment books. 

 

“What was that?” she asks, pushing her glasses further up her nose before stretching her limbs, cracking a few bones doing so. 

 

“I’m gonna be featured in Shiro’s ad...” He’s a bit breathless. He has been in a few specialized magazines but that, being credited like that on a worldwide ad campaign is on another level altogether. They offered money he recalls, vaguely, an insane amount of money that he could use later on to help other artists thrive he thinks…

 

“What are you talking about?” 

 

Keith shakes his head, trying to rearrange his thoughts. Maybe he should explain it all with a few more words to Pidge. So he does, he tells her how the night of the party went when all of them left and how he had been inspired and ended up decorating Shiro’s prosthetic and how the company liked it so much they asked to keep it and want the world to know it came from him.

 

“That’s amazing Keith! It’s a huge opportunity for you!” 

 

Keith doesn’t have to whine about his popularity, he already has clients on a waiting list but he can’t deny the free publicity this is. 

 

It doesn’t take long for the ad to be plastered  _ everywhere _ and for Keith to receive calls and visits from people interested in his talent. It doesn’t bother him one bit even when some people are a bit borderline sometimes, like one can be when the line is thin between passion and obsession. 

 

No, what bothers him for real is the half naked man that just seems to wait for him in every single corner of the city. Why is there no one to cover the boards with tags already? Where are the prudes when you need them...

 

He remembers the first time he saw it. 

 

He was on his bike stuck in traffic, bored. He turned his head and there he was, on a bus stop. A black and white picture of the man, his flesh arm bent with his hand on the back of his neck while his metallic one is resting on his hip, laughing and Keith took the time to enjoy the fact that it was genuine. He would recognize a fake one a mile away. Shiro’s eyes are closed, his head ever so slightly lowered but the light is catching every single point of interest on his handsome features: the little wrinkles around his eyes he adores so much, the way his mouth stretches, dimples showing and the way he’s just mere seconds from biting his bottom lip to calm himself. And oh dear how it’s making his muscles taut in the process. His bicep so huge, so finely shaped it looks like it will burst any minute now, his abs rock hard and it’s the horn coming from the car behind him that made him jump and prevented him from reaching out.

 

It’s only later that he appreciates the sight of his own name, small but here in the bottom left corner in a tiny font size, “Body art by Keith K.” Lance is so proud of him it’s like he’s the one that’s mentioned on the poster of a greek god in designer underwear.

 

Shiro’s vision haunts his dreams every night. 

 

It’s like he’s back years ago when Shiro started this whole modelling thing. He would regularly catch Shiro’s half naked body in magazines, life size posters on the streets and such and he would curse the damnation it brought onto his soul as he would have no other option than to act on his needs. He’s not exactly proud but when the man you thirst for is a fucking underwear model and remains at arm’s length you resort to handsy means to satisfy your desires…

 

But he’s stronger than that now. He had the time to build his sexual experience, not always in the best way but healthy coping mechanisms have always eluded Keith a little. The thing is, he’s not a raging hormonal teenager anymore. It’s Shiro’s fault anyway, he shouldn’t have the right to look like that. 

 

Man if only Keith could run his fingertips along the lines of his abs, the tip of tongue tracing a wet trail to underline every curve or just the hard planes of his pecs, he’s not asking for much honestly...

 

Keith feels like a dying man in the desert. He’s so thirsty he’s starting to go crazy. The only thing that prevents him from calling Shiro when he’s caught up in his fantasies is the fact that maybe, maybe Shiro has moved on during those 3 years and even if Keith said “I love you” before leaving, Shiro never said the words in return. Sure, Keith knows he’s important in the man’s life but he has no idea how much exactly. 

 

*****

 

Keith has taken refuge in his shop. It’s closed for now and he’s grateful for this. He needs space to breathe in and breathe out again. 

 

What was he trying to say to Shiro anyway? 

 

He finds himself in front of the mirror his patrons use to take a look at their new tattoo and Keith observes his reflection with such earnestness it gives him a chill and suddenly words leave his mouth like a dam broke “A lot can happen in 3 years but if you’re willing to accept me now I would be in your arms in a heartbeat? I’m just hoping that you kept this silly design I drew on your arm while a bit wasted because you feel just the same as I do? I’m the man you wanted me to be now, so can we just talk about how weak in the knees you render me even after all this time?”

 

“Do I, really?”

 

Keith spins so fast he’s dizzy for a second and his eyes have a hard time focusing on Shiro. Shiro that is here, in his shop, on his territory and the hope Keith reads in his gray eyes is blinding.

 

“Fuck you...” Keith says, he’s the one caught red-handed now. It’s the defense mechanism he’s always using and Shiro just interrupted a private moment he was never supposed to witness.

 

Shiro laughs, he dares to laugh and look sheepish, taking a step closer carefully so he wouldn’t traumatize the cornered creature that is Keith. 

 

“I think there’s something that can be done about that.”

 

And Keith groans, frustrated for millions of reasons because Shiro is basically flirting with him when only minutes ago he just unintentionally exposed his soul and now there’s a plethora of pictures in his mind that make his body shudder pleasantly. He closes his eyes and ruffles his hair, clearly trying to hold back.

 

“Keith…” Shiro’s voice trembles, just like his hand as he tucks a strand of Keith’s hair out of his eyes. “Keith I know it’s late, I know I should have dealt with things, with us, differently but…”

 

“But?” 

 

Shiro struggles with his words. Keith is looking up, meeting his eyes with such raw intensity, he can read every single emotion in the purple of his irises and he swallows the lump forming in his throat. Keith had been so brave, conquering the world on his own when Shiro fought his own battles. And Keith had come back and Keith still wants him. He owes it to him to be brave. 

 

“But I love you, I always have and I’m done pretending I’m not doing anything about it because it’s what’s best for you because you’re what’s best for me and… I need you.” 

 

His fingers brush Keith’s cheek, his jawline, and he leans very very slowly because he wants to give Keith the possibility to reject him. 

 

It’s not because Keith still seems to harbor feelings for him, that he might not be angry at him or confused that it took so long for Shiro to voice a reciprocation that has always been there.

 

Keith’s labored breath echoes between them and the first things that collide are their foreheads as Keith reaches for Shiro’s collar to pull him closer. It feels so intimate suddenly, they’re breathing the same air, they’re shivering in each other’s arms, they’re sharing the same warmth. It’s a suspended moment in time, their lips barely touching, their noses caressing as they chase for each other's mouth ever so slowly but not kissing, not yet. Both of them hit with the same understanding that they have all the time in the world now. When they finally surrender it’s sweet, tentative. Their lips touch, their arms find their way to embrace the other tightly. Shiro has his around Keith’s narrow waist and Keith’s arms are wrapped around Shiro’s neck, long slender fingers grasping his hair as they tilt their heads, looking for the right angle and then finally, finally, Shiro parts his lips, the movement followed by Keith, the encounter of their tongues provoking muffled sighs that they chase till they both lack air. 

 

Keith slides out of his arms and locks the door to his shop, taking Shiro’s hand when he’s done and dragging him toward the back and into his office. There are sketches everywhere on his desk, a couch that seems to be the destination Keith has in mind but Shiro holds him in a  steady hug in the middle of the room, Keith’s back pressed to his chest, his lips devouring Keith’s neck, curling them into a smug smile when Keith’s knees buckle under the power of Shiro’s desire.

 

“I got you baby” he whispers in that low, sultry tone that makes Keith’s toes curl in his shoes. 

 

“Shiro, Takashi, please…” Keith has no idea what he’s begging for, but he trusts Shiro has a way to end his suffering.

 

“I know, I know” Shiro peppers sweet soft kisses along the column of Keith’s neck with every whispered praise while his hand unbuckles his belt, tugging his zipper down and pushing his pants and boxer shorts down his legs, fabrics pooling around his ankles when Shiro takes him in his flesh hand, holding him so carefully close with the other metallic one. Shiro is patient, focused solely on Keith’s pleasure, like he knows Keith’s needs it, like he knows all about the pent up frustration desperate to be expressed in one way or another. And maybe he does, maybe he knows because he’s just the same but this, right here, is for Keith, for Shiro to take care of Keith once again, another level for sure but one they were always meant to reach. 

 

Keith is a mess, a weak creature panting, begging, whimpering as Shiro’s fingers drive him crazy with lust and bliss. He’s nestling his head in the crook of Shiro’s neck, moaning the man’s name helplessly, the pleasure rippling through his whole body. He’s so close already it would be embarrassing if Shiro wasn’t coaxing him to let go. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s years of agony and suffering and in the arms and hand of the man he loves, Keith can finally stop struggling, fighting.

 

He’s loud, incoherent when he comes, white ribbons staining Shiro’s hand and his stomach and he’s out for a moment, spent like he has never been before. He’s out but safe in the arms of this man too big, too bulky, too soft. He’s barely aware of Shiro’s aftercare, of how he makes him decent again before they cuddle on the couch and Shiro’s mouth seems latched to Keith’s skin. It’s pleasant and he hums when his voice finally returns. 

 

“I thought I lost you for a moment.” Shiro chuckles as he rest his chin on the top of Keith’s head, his hand chasing whatever skin his mouth can’t now in this new position. 

 

There might be something else implied here, Keith doesn’t know for sure because he just had an orgasm and some of his brain cells are still a bit too ecstatic to make the connections. “Never...” he says anyway. Because it’s true. He needed Shiro just as much as the other needed him. In whatever way that was. 

 

*****

 

When they get out of the room not much later, Lance is furiously knocking on the glass doors and when Keith follows his eyes to the floor where the tea bag has fallen, tea leaves scattered everywhere, he knows he’s gonna hear about it for the rest of his life but the long-suffering sigh that threatens to leave his lips never does as Shiro laughs wholeheartedly next to him, pecking his cheek before he goes to open the door for Lance and promises him another batch for free as a token of their friendship.

 

Keith forgets he wanted to punch Lance for setting him up. Instead he threads his fingers with Shiro’s and the way Lance smiles as he steps in and his anger falters tell Keith he doesn’t mind so much about the tea anyway. And maybe, maybe one day when he’s completely wasted he’ll admit aloud that Lance is also the best friend he has in the whole universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to come and talk with me about Sheith here [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/teactoc)
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment if you feel like brightening an author's day! Really it always means a lot to me. I answer to all comments unless they're from friends which means I've probably showered them with my love already xD 
> 
> See ya ~


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